There are a plethora of gated communities here in Florida, man made villages of homes tucked behind lush landscaping and pastel colored stucco walls. Many of them are associated with golf courses, and the astronomical maintenance fees that go with all that. Our community is not such a one, but, in my estimation, the lack of golf greens is more than assuaged by the miles of inland lakes and arched bridges. Within easy walking distance are tennis courts, fitness center, and a large, sparkling pool. Also a cafe to grab lunch, and a salon for hair and nails. Add to that a bank, post office, gas station, and life is nearly complete within the confines of these five square miles. Real estate advertising often refers to Island Walk as "resort style living," and that isn't hyperbole. So we find ourselves rarely venturing outside this oasis. It's our personal paradise, quiet, calm, and lovely. The city of Naples is a continual bustle of beautiful people enjoying their very riche lifestyle, and I certainly don't fit into that mold. It's fun to watch (for a while) but it's not me. The outside world intruded on us yesterday morning when we awoke to find egg splattered on the screen of our lanai and on the slider door outside the master bedroom. This happens occasionally in our suburban Detroit neighborhood, and we shake out heads but aren't terribly surprised. We were surprised that it happened here, and aparently we've developed a false sense of security. Island Walk is obviously not as insulated from "the real world" as we liked to believe. And while an occasional egg tossing/toilet papering spree isn't the harbinger of doom, it serves to remind me that perfection is simply not possible-even in "paradise." So I'll adjust my expectations a bit. After living on planet earth for 50-plus years, I'm accustomed to doing that. We cleaned off the screens without too much fuss, and used the opportunity to hose down the lanai floor (which needed doing anyway). The dogs had great fun playing in the water, and now everything is clean and shiny once more. Except my image of our oasis, which is just slightly tarnished.
Sunday Scribblings-Now and Then
It was an odd feeling, Terry thought, this sensation of standing outside her life looking in. It happened now and then when she was particularly harried. Like this morning, stuffing baby Jack into his quilted snowsuit while Jessica danced around the room frantically singing "Have to go potty, Mommy! Have to go right now!" In her mind's eye, an image of herself appeared, dressed for work in her favorite Donna Karan suit, her Coach bag neatly packed with her laptop and ideas for the next issue. This sleek, put-together version peered disapprovingly at this morning's Terry-black knit pants bagging at the knees, and tattered Eddie Bauer thermal t-shirt with a suspicious looking stain just below her breast. She sighed, and abandoned Jack in favor of Jessica, whose need seemed the most pressing. She wondered how long it would take the six month old to realize he had been ditched - left lolling in his crib while his mother hustled his older sister toward the bathroom and her pottychair.
"Wahhhh!" Terry heard, before she and the wiggling Jessica even reached the bathroom door.
Obviously, not long at all.
How long had it been, Terry wondered, since she felt even nominally in charge of her life? Back then, in her PTP (prior to parenthood) days, she had managed a successful monthly magazine, kept writers, photographers, and a slew of assistant editors in line, while maintaining a creative presence in each department. Now, she was exhausted before 9:00 in the morning, trying to satisfy the demands of two individuals whose combined weight was less than 30 pounds.
Terry blinked rapidly to dispel the image of her former self with pure disappointment etched across her face, observing the fumbling inefficiency of this current, clearly inept, version. With renewed energy, she hustled her daughter through her morning ablutions, and back into Pull-Ups. Hurrying back to the nursery, she went to work on baby Jack, who seemed startled by her grim purposefulness and stopped screaming long enough for her to work his sturdy legs into the snowsuit and snap it up to the apex of his chubby chin.
Twenty minutes later (a new record!) Terry was on line at Starbucks, Jack nestled happily in the Baby Bjorn, Jessica tucked into her stroller, content to arrange her Cheerios's in neat lines on the tray. The usual morning crowd stood desultorily ahead of her - college students, bleary eyed and toting grungy overfull tote packs, young executives in pressed suits and overcoats. Terry took a deep breath, sending a silent prayer heavenward that her two children would remain calm until she had her mocha latte firmly in hand.
The middle aged woman standing in front of Terry snapped her cell phone firmly shut and turned briskly. Terry recognized the rigid set of her shoulders and felt the aura of intense concentration - she's had a call from the office, Terry thought, remembering those panicked phone calls requiring her instant attention on some seemingly earth shattering dilemma. The woman's face softened when she noticed the sleeping baby, and a smile brightened her face as she looked down at Jessica's tousled blond curls.
"So precious," she said wistfully, looking at Terry with obvious envy. "God, I remember those days when mine were small. Life seemed so much simpler then." She stuffed the sleek cell phone back into her Coach tote and pulled on black leather gloves. "Now I can't even take time for a decent cup of coffee," she muttered. Sighing, she pulled out of line and headed for the door.
"Enjoy!" she said, barking the word like a command.
A mental image emerged in Terry's mind, this time of her power suited self 20 years into the future, rushing to catch the train into the city and carrying nothing but a cold leather briefcase. She wrapped her left arm tightly around Jack's solid torso, snuggling him closer to her heart. Perhaps her life was pretty good right now after all.
"Mommy," Jessica suddenly cried out. "Have to go potty! Have to go right now!"
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Hosting Help
I've been thinking about branching out into more sophisticated blogging - getting my own domain name, some advertising perhaps - setting up shop in a more professional way. All this thinking was probably spurred by the sleek new laptop I got for Christmas. Whatever, my little brain has been working furiously. However, I know next to nothing about webhosting.
No worries, though, because I found an excellent resource to help answer my basic questions and point me in the right direction. Web Hosting Choice is a complete website that provides all the basic information about what I need to host my site, as well as offering a guide to web hosting services that fill the bill. There clear, concise format is easy to navigate, and the explanations are complete and user friendly.
Like a good host should, this site made me feel right at home.
Frump City
The mirror is definitely not my best friend these days. With great dismay, I feel myself drifting across that invisible line into OL-ism. Perhaps it's the elastic waist pants I've come to favor, taking great pains to conceal the waist band by layering blouses over T-shirts. Or maybe it's my hair, which seems bent on misbehaving badly in the Florida humidity, turning my usual soft waves into unmanageable frizzy curls. My skin looks unhealthily pale amidst the sunshine and bright colors of the tropics, and my makeup seems fruitless in its quest to conceal an ever growing numbers of lines and creases. I don't consider myself terribly vain about my appearance, and although I like to dress stylishly, I'm not a trend fiend. I generally buy a couple of nice pieces a year, at Talbots or Coldwater Creek, and the rest of my clothes are pretty casual pants and sweaters which suit me for work and for leisure activities.
But in the past few years, it's become more difficult to stay current without looking ridiculous. The new "baby doll" tops are a case in point. I wore that very same style in the late 60's when I was a tiny waisted teenager. The effect now is simply not the same. I merely look like exactly what I am - a slightly puffy middle aged woman trying to appear stylish. Sad.
A while ago I saw an elderly woman ( a real OL!) tottering through the airport in spike heels, tight black low rise pants, and a fake fur jacket. My god, I thought, spare me from ever being so foolish! At least elastic waist pants don't send everyone around me into fits of derisive laughter.
Nevertheless, especially when I'm here in Southwest Florida, a land of beautiful people wearing very expensive clothes, I feel especially old and out of date. I haven't updated my Florida wardrobe in a few years, and it's in desperate need of revitalizing. I simply must have one or two outfits to wear downtown for dinner at Bistro 821 or lunch on the patio at Campiello's. But I dread the whole shopping experience, which just serves to make me feel frumpier than I already do.
Alternatively, I could just stay home, which becomes ever more appealing as the crowds and traffic thicken for the "season." Then I can be comfy in my old (elastic waist) Capri's or the soft, flowy cotton sundresses my daughter-in-law brings back from Thailand.
Besides, frumpy feels better than fashionable anyway.
And So This Is Christmas
Or the day after, to be exact. It's a bit peculiar for this Michigander to be sitting outdoors on a December afternoon, listening to palm fronds whisking in the breeze, blessedly barefooted and wearing tank top and Capri's. Peculiar, but not unpleasant. Not at all. We arrived late afternoon on Christmas Eve, just in time for all the grocery stores to close. No matter - we made do with some of the emergency rations from the freezer (Stouffers lasagna and garlic bread). There was plenty of wine in the rack to wash it down with. Christmas morning dawned cloudy and cool, but the dogs woke us early anyway, so excited to be here, anxious for a walk and a game of fetch. We spent a quiet afternoon with Brian and Nantana, and then all drove to my dad's house where his wife prepared a turkey dinner with all the trimmings. It's funny, but if someone had told me five years ago that I would one day sit down to dinner with my father and "that woman" and actually enjoy it, I would have said they were completely crazy. But I realize now that all the anger and animosity I harbored toward them at the time of my parents divorce was more detrimental to me than anyone else. It's good to let go of that - not easy, certainly, but necessary in order to be healthy. Today was back to business as usual, and a trip to Publix was definitely in order. The thing about having a vacation "home," (as opposed to staying in a hotel) is that someone has to do all those "homey" things. That someone is usually me. So, a couple of hours and $200 later, the larder is well stocked once again. Some fruits, vegetables, and yogurt for snacking, fresh organic chicken breasts (some for us, some for the puppies), fixings for salads, and a restock on the emergency freezer rations (Bertoli Dinner for Two in a bag). After another hour with a broom and some spray cleaner, the lanai was ready for use. And that's where I've landed, bare feet propped up, a dog on each side, blue sky overhead, a cold drink, and you :) Definitely the preferred way to spend an afternoon in December.
How about you? How's your day after Christmas?